Soldier Eyes
by Scintilla of Myself
Summary: Otabek entered the darkened apartment to find a half-naked Yuri. All was quiet. Something was wrong. Hurt/Comfort/Fluff.


**Disclaimer: Yuri! on Ice belongs to Sayo Yatamoto and her team.**

* * *

Yuri was half-naked when Otabek walked in, and really, those black, skin-tight leggings didn't leave much to the imagination anyway. Yuri, on his part, gave no indication that he had heard Otabek enter his apartment (he was the one who had "lent" him a key after all). Instead, he continued to inspect himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. His scowl was a little tenser than usual, and the harsh lines carved into his otherwise soft features.

After putting the takeout he had brought on the table (the amount of calories in them was incredible, but Otabek indulged once a month), he wordlessly joined Yuri at the mirror. They did not touch.

For several minutes, Yuri continued to frown at his reflection. Goosebumps dotted his pale skin, but Yuri seemed untroubled by the cold as he poked and prodded at the taut, flat skin of his stomach. Nimble fingers ghosted down his lithe arms, brushing the smooth line of his jaws and tracing the slight indentation made by his collarbone with detached interest. Otabek was quiet, patiently watching Yuri's critical examination of his body until finally, troubled blue-green eyes raised to meet his in the mirror.

"Beka — " he began, but fell silent. A moment passed. Then, Yuri suddenly felt warm arms wrap about his shoulders.

"What is it, Yuratchka?"

"How old do I look?"

"Like you're 17, what else?"

"My birthday is in 5 days... I'll be 18 soon."

"Yes, I know," Otabek paused, "Isn't that what you've always wanted? Yesterday you said you couldn't wait to be — "

"I want to be with you," Yuri cut him off, "you know that". He paused, "But… I'll be _eighteen_." The last sentence was whispered with vehemence, and Otabek's grip tightened as comprehension dawned in his eyes.

"We are human, we all grow old... Besides," he pulled back to look Yuri in the eye, "It's impolite to say you're old in front of your elders." This earned him a short bark of laughter.

"You're only 21," Yuri scoffed, "hardly old."

"And you're only 18, not even."

"Yeah, but I'm not. . ."

"Not me?" Yuri nodded. Otabek simply raised an eyebrow, receiving a scowl in response. Then —

"I failed today, okay?" Yuri shouted, suddenly furious, "I stumbled on a toe loop and you didn't see Lillia and Yakov's faces. They — I haven't stumbled on a toe loop since I was 12. I swear I did _every single one_ of Lilia's exercises before going to sleep. I worked so hard and now my body just decides to - to -"

Otabek said nothing.

"It's not _fair_. I practise every day, I watch my calorie intake and did everything I was supposed to and still screw up a stupid _toe loop_. They call you the Knight of Kazakhstan or whatever but I'm supposed to be the Fairy of Russia and _flexible_ but I'm failing toe loops and it's getting harder to do vertical splits and I have to work so hard to do everything I could do in my _sleep_ when I was 15 and DAMMIT BEKA SAY SOMETHING."

Silence. Then —

"It _is_ fair. People have always lost flexibility as they age."

"Yeah but — " _but not me, not yet. Please, I'm not ready._

"But what?" Otabek's voice hardened, "You're pissed 'cause you screwed something up? 'Cause your body doesn't do what you want? If you throw a fit every time you stumble, you don't _deserve_ to be a world class skater."

Yuri opened his mouth to speak, but Otabek went on.

"No, _listen_ to me. Yes, you're older than you were at 15, and today's stumble is a warning, but you're still good and you're still young. Nikiforov didn't stop skating until he was 27 and you _know_ he screwed up more often."

"Damn right he did," Yuri snarled, "and I won't retire at 27, I'm better than that."

"And you know it," Otabek smiled, "You'll be fine. As long as you continue to practise the way I've seen you do, you've still got a good decade left. People would _kill_ to have your body, so don't you dare complain." Pausing to press a brief kiss to Yuri's blonde locks, he continued in a gentler voice, "Still, you _will_ retire one day. Maybe not at 27 or even 28, but you will."

"I know that," Yuri replied sullenly, "I'll deal with it when I get there."

"That's not going to work. Didn't you yell at Viktor and Yuuri for treating you like a kid? Adults get old and even if reality hurts like hell, they don't avoid it."

"Well then maybe I don't want to grow up," Yuri replied with a childish pout, "Kids have it easier anyway, and they're more flexible."

"I'd rather not," Otabek replied, deadpan, "I can't kiss you if you're underage."

"Tch, you do it anyway."

"...True."

The two lapsed into silence. The sun had set some time earlier and the room was dark, quiet, _safe_. Yuri closed his eyes and let his (aging, soon-to-fail-him) body relax against Otabek, feeling him doing the same in return.

* * *

"Even when you retire," Otabek eventually whispered into the darkened room, "You'll be fine. Your body may fail you, but my Yuratchka's got soldier eyes, and those last a whole lifetime."


End file.
